


Circular Logic

by kettish



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M, Not Actually Smut, Whoa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-28
Updated: 2017-08-28
Packaged: 2018-12-20 22:08:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11930292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kettish/pseuds/kettish
Summary: Punsbulletsandpointythings suggested fake marriage, mutual pining, the works when I asked for a writing warm-up. It bit me and dug its teeth in and ended up a little more than anticipated.





	Circular Logic

Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon descended the ramp, disembarking onto the small planet of G’fal, a world on the Outer Rim that was placed perfectly for a communications hub. It was this placement that made their re-entry into the Republic warrant Jedi representation, and Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan had been due for an easy mission for once. They walked serenely, projecting Jedi aloofness and fair judgement, and greeted the representative for G’fal as had been prescribed, shaking hands.

 

The representative stared at their joined hands both times, and then scowled up at the hooded Jedi. 

 

“Well, if this is the best they can do, I suppose we’ll have to make it work,” he sneered, and both Jedi stared at him in confusion.

 

“Pardon, ser,” Qui-Gon said, pulling his hood down; Obi-Wan did the same in solidarity. “I’m not sure what offense we have given, but perhaps you can inform us of our mistake, so that we avoid it in the future?” The man continued to scowl at them.

 

“We don’t have any use for single adults,” he said angrily. “The Order has to know this! Surely this is a calculated insult!” Alarm filled the Jedi’s pair bond for an instant, and then a sudden blankness from Obi-Wan--

 

“Oh, but we're bonded!” Obi-Wan said with a winning smile. He reached down to take Qui-Gon’s hand with ease, squeezing lovingly. Qui-Gon’s heart stopped, and only years of diplomatic training kept him from sputtering along with the representative.

 

“Oh, my, I’m so sorry!” the representative cried, seeming distressed now at his earlier behavior. “How in the world was I supposed to know? Are Jedi marriage customs so different than ours?”

 

“We have very few,” Qui-Gon cut in. He could work with this, but Obi-Wan didn’t need to make it any more difficult, and Qui-Gon wouldn’t put it past him to do so as a prank. Obi-Wan, perhaps sensing that thought, smiled up at him indulgently but with a glimmer of amusement. 

 

“Well! We’d best get you straightened out,” the representative decided. “Only wedded adults may participate in our government, and no one will take you seriously if you aren’t wearing rings.” That being said, he marched them into the aircar, drove into the city, and pulled into a small jewelry shop. There he explained the whole ‘misunderstanding’ to the jeweler, who found a set of plain, serviceable bands appropriate for two males and sold them to them.

 

“When were you wed, then?” the jeweler asked out of nowhere as he pulled the rings out of their displays. “We’ll get them engraved right quick for you, sers.” Qui-Gon’s mind went blank, and into that silence Obi-Wan casually gave them a date. Qui-Gon frowned over at his partner, wondering what had prompted him, and Obi-Wan shrugged. Qui-Gon counted days back and came to the conclusion that it was when Obi-Wan had been Knighted, and smiled.

That settled, they finally began their mission proper. Travel time was nonexistent, thankfully, and everyone they spoke to was genial. It was a relaxed, predictable mission.

 

Except everyone thought they were married, and they couldn’t correct that without losing their status as representatives to the Jedi Order for these proceedings and then getting absolutely reamed when they reported back to the Council.

 

It was both heaven and hell. Qui-Gon adored how Obi-Wan’s hand fit in his: smaller, so that it was utterly comfortable to curl his hand around, but strong, with calluses and hair. The feel of Obi-Wan pressed thigh-to-thigh next to him at working dinners was temptation itself, the corded muscle evident even with trousers separating them. The many, many times they had to bus a kiss against each other’s cheeks or forehead or shoulder and the once that they actually kissed were memories he would treasure for years to come. Qui-Gon hadn’t had this many unexpected erections in years, and the fact that they had a single room with a bed barely big enough for them both did. Not. Help.

 

So it was both wistfully and with relief that they wrapped up their mission on G’fal, and tugged off the wedding bands once they had left atmosphere. They both tucked them safely into their belt pouches to be disposed of appropriately later, made their apologies for liberties taken during the mission, and moved on.

 

Qui-Gon found himself melancholy in the weeks to come. He’d had a glimpse of a future he would never have, and it had been everything he ever wanted. Qui-Gon had thought maybe after Obi-Wan was Knighted, his apprentice-turned-partner might approach him about deepening their relationship, but it never happened. 

 

Obi-Wan plied him with thoughtful gestures and gifts, possibly sensing how sad Qui-Gon was. Qui-Gon would have assigned more meaning to the gestures if it weren’t for how politely they were presented. There were times where Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan could feel each other intimately through the force in a way that neither of them was accustomed to with anyone else. But Obi-Wan apparently thought they were best as a working pair, so Qui-Gon attributed their occasional closeness to the fact that they both severed the training bond and instituted a pair bond in the same day, as they were assigned to be partners immediately after will be ones knighting ceremony.

 

Time passed, and Qui-Gon gradually climbed out of his bout of depression. They had a few more difficult missions that helped take his mind off of romantic concerns, and were then sent to on an easier mission. They were to oversee democratic elections on a volatile world that was trying to end its own civil war, and the Jedi always supported peaceful efforts.

 

The elections themselves went by fine, but when the winner was announced a small portion of the population were beside themselves in fury. Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan requested and were allowed to stay until the acceptance ceremony was done, and the newly elected leader was just about to put pen to ‘plast when the sniper struck.

 

Politicians, aids, and bystanders scattered at the shot; it was loud, an older slugthrower, and Qui-Gon’s blade caught the bullet enough to redirect it partially. A portion of the slug melted and still hit the new leader, and a moment later the echoing crack of return fire sounded as security found and neutralized the sniper.

 

“Need to sign!” the leader wheezed through the pain of the wound in his thigh. It was bleeding heavily, but had missed the femoral artery, and Obi-Wan clamped down on it with his tabards without bothering to take them off. “Predecessor is appointed, will be honored if I just sign--”

 

“Pen, pen, pen,” Obi-Wan looked around frantically. Qui-Gon was doing the same with no luck; there was plenty of debris from the audiences’ flight to safety. “Oh! Belt, Qui-Gon, third on the right, should be a pen in there--”

 

Obi-Wan continued holding pressure on the bullet wound and Qui-Gon found pulled the pouch snap open and found...a pen and a ring. A very familiar ring. That apparently did not get turned over to the quartermaster for melting down to recover the Order’s investment. 

 

“What in the Force--” Qui-Gon exclaimed, digging it out to hold it up. “Obi-Wan, why do you still have this thing?” 

 

“The pen, Qui-Gon!” Obi-wan barked, and Qui-Gon shoved the pen into the politician’s hands roughly. 

 

“Obi-Wan, this was supposed to be turned in cycles ago, why do you still have it?”

 

“This really isn’t the time, Qui-Gon, we can talk about it later--yes, sir, please sign, here, here’s the paper--I didn’t have time, I mean, we were so busy, and--”

 

“You started trimming the brush in the meditation gardens voluntarily, you had time!”

 

“I wasn’t ready to get rid of it!” Obi-Wan snapped, and Qui-Gon pulled up short.

 

“What do you mean, you weren’t ready?” Obi-Wan held the politician’s leg firmly, not meeting Qui-Gon’s eyes, and Qui-Gon needed to read him. He reached down and pulled Obi-Wan’s chin in his direction, ignoring the newly-elected president’s triumphant and defiant shout. “Obi-Wan?”

 

Even with Qui-Gon holding his chin, Obi-Wan didn’t meet Qui-Gon’s eyes for long before he looked away. 

 

“It was...that time was important to me,” Obi-Wan admitted, stubborn set to his jaw. “I know it wasn’t the same for you, but it was special to me.” Qui-Gon’s breath caught in his chest, and he couldn’t breathe, let alone answer. The ring dropped from his hand and he noticed and grabbed for it a moment too late; it rolled across the stage and came to a stop. Obi-Wan nodded jerkily.

 

“There you go, then,” he said. “Comm for emergency services please. We haven’t been shot at again, but there could be more snipers, and this wound still needs tending.” Qui-Gon started, then turned and walked a few paces to make the call while Obi-Wan talked quietly with the new leader. Qui-Gon politely pretended not to notice when Obi-Wan bent down and picked up the forgotten ring, tucking it in his belt pocket again for safekeeping.

 

The rest of the mission went much the same way. Now that the paperwork was signed, the planet’s nations were willing to all cooperate and send resources to the new seat of power, which meant the Jedi no longer needed to act as bodyguards or observers. They took their leave without fanfare, simply giving notice to the chief of security and an administrative assistant to the president, and were away from the planet in less than two days.

 

As soon as they were in hyperspace, Qui-Gon retreated to the cargo hold and sank down onto his knees in meditation, seeking guidance from the Force. He was honestly terrible at interpersonal relationships where he was involved; give him an interplanetary crisis and he’d have it ironed out in hours, but one misunderstanding between friends could have him spinning in circles for days. All the same, this was the most important and cherished relationship he had, and he was determined to handle it well.

 

Obi-Wan was hurt. Qui-Gon could feel that even through the shields that blocked their pair bond currently; it leaked into their bond before dispersing like trace amounts of blood in water. Qui-Gon wanted badly to stem that flow, and finally he hit upon what was the most likely way to successfully make himself understood. The Force hummed its gentle approval, a slow crescendo of song that felt like the potential growth of a  _ wroshyr _ sapling. 

 

Qui-Gon got up, shaking blood back out into his feet, and oriented himself. He’d been meditating for about six hours, which meant they had another four before they came out of hyperspace to change trajectory, and another two days beyond that. He wavered, thinking maybe he ought not do something he might regret when they had another two and a half days stuck in close quarters, but gathered his courage and went to find Obi-Wan.

 

Qui-Gon was a great wordsmith when it came to other people, other situations. When it came to his own life, he’d long ago found that actions were much louder than any words, and so when he found Obi-Wan brooding over a mug of hot water in the mess he skipped speech. Instead, he reached into the inner pocket of his tunic and pulled out a ring, setting it on the table in front of Obi-Wan as he sat down.

 

Obi-Wan stared at the ring on the table for long moments before a thunderous look came over his face.

 

“How dare you!” he accused heatedly, pushing away from the table to stand. “Qui-Gon Jinn I didn’t take you for a pickpocket. How dare you go into my personal things and--”

 

“That’s not yours,” Qui-Gon interrupted, and nudged it a little closer to Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan stared down at him, then at the ring, and then looked strangely back at Qui-Gon again. It was a mixture of befuddled, leftover ire, hurt, and hope that Obi-Wan seemed to be desperately trying to hold down. 

 

Obi-Wan reached back slowly to his belt pouch, the small one that had contained the ring and pen before, and unsnapped it. He reached inside, fingers closing on his own ring, and his eyes closed briefly as though he was in pain before he pulled it out to set it down so, so gently next to Qui-Gon’s. 

 

“You still have your ring,” Obi-Wan observed, dazed and still staring at the two rings on the table. Qui-Gon’s head dipped into a bow.

 

“Yes.”

 

“You paid the quartermaster for yours, like I did mine,” Obi-Wan continued. Qui-Gon nodded again.

 

“It meant too much to me to let go,” Qui-Gon said quietly. Obi-Wan looked up at him again, bewildered.

 

“You never said anything,” Obi-Wan said. 

 

“I couldn’t,” Qui-Gon explained, voice soft as he leaned down to rest his head on his crossed arms on the table. He took his turn staring at the two rings now, and Obi-Wan finally recognized the longing in Qui-Gon’s eyes.

 

“I’m an idiot,” Obi-Wan said. Qui-Gon raised his eyebrows at him in surprise and request for clarification. “I knew that. I _knew_ that--I explained that same exact thing to Siri a cycle ago about her master.” Qui-Gon pushed his face down into his arms now to hide the grin he couldn’t suppress.

 

“I’m an absolute moron,” Obi-Wan repeated, and his voice was strong and present and heavily seasoned with humor. “Qui-Gon, I’m so sorry. I should have known you wouldn’t take anything of mine, and I should have just said something instead of circumlocuting the issue time and again. Would you have dinner with me?” 

 

Qui-Gon straightened, his small grin transformed into a joyful smile and he replied, “I would be honored. I’ll pick you at at seventh hour, shall I?” Obi-Wan laughed; they wouldn’t arrive on Coruscant for days.

 

“I know just the place we can eat,” he hooted, and Qui-Gon joined in. They laughed together, the tension easing into a wholesome familiarity, and they joined hands as they sat down to swap tales of all the times they’d wished to be together.

 


End file.
